Larch Mt. Tour

I just checked out "The Golden Age of Handbuilt Bicycles" by Jean Heine from the library. An amazing book that embodies a cycling ideology and style of days gone by that makes me want to ride off to the mountains every free moment I get. Cyclotouring, or "riding for the enjoyment of riding". So I packed up the ol' Peugeot yesterday and set out for the Columbia River Gorge. I decided I would do it minimalist style, no tarp, no sleeping bag. Just some extra clothes, water filter, tools, camera and food. I rode the Max train out of the city to the last stop with my bike. I have ridden from my house to the gorge before but I prefer to just bypass all of the urban/suburban wasteland and just get on the back roads as soon as possible. I got off the train and on the road by 3:30 or so. The route I took descended to the Sandy River where I have been taking the same ride to go swimming this summer. From here I ascended out of the valley on the Historic Columbia River Highway. It was a bit busy until I made it past most of the yahoos on their way to swim at the Sandy. I climb, climb, climbed about 3,000 feet up to Larch Mt. It was gettin late though so I didn't go the whole way to the top, which does have a splendid view indeed. I first turned off a logging road and gave my bike a workout over the rocky, unpaved surface through a clearcut. It handled it well. I thought maybe I would camp here but it didn't feel good. The ground was dry as a desert and the surrounding stands of immature hemlocks were so dense they allowed no light through creating a dark, ominous wood that gave me the creeps. Not to mention all of the beer cans, shotgun shells and other debris left by hunters and backwoods street sign shooters. I decided to coast back down to some more inviting forest I passed on my way up the mountain. I found a spot not far off the road. The swainson's thrushes were cheerily making their spiraling call and all around were red huckleberries ripe for the pickin'! This area had obviously been clearcut at one time too but it felt more pleasant and my mood immediately changed. I remembered why I had ridden out here. I went to work picking huckleberries (and eating them). The simple debris shelter I planned to build for warmth was soon forgotten about as I filled up on berries. As the sun set I found a spot to bed down in some moss under a baby hemlock and some huckleberry bushes. I always seem to think I will fall asleep easily in these situations but I never learn my lesson. Ants crawled up my pants and mosquitoes kept buzzin me. As the night went on my feet became cold and I curled up tighter. At some point I finally slept long enough to have an obscure dream about finding a cougar skull in a pond or somethin but was awoken by the sound of a mouse running around my head. Soon the thrushes were singing again and a new day was dawning. I stretched, ate a few more berries, and made my way back to the road, eyes burning from lack of sleep. The ride back was mostly downhill. I was back to the Max by 7:00 am and home in the comfort of my bed by 8:45. Here's a picture of the Columbia River at sunrise and of my trusty Peugeot.